Her Demise
by 4TAE
Summary: Practical, callous, and dignified – "The Heartless Woman" should've known better than to associate with nonsense like him. He, ultimately, was her demise.
1. Perfect Timing

**Her Demise**

Practical, callous, and dignified – "The Heartless Woman" should've known better than to associate with nonsense like him. He, ultimately, was her demise.

Serizumo.

Rated T for language.

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**Chapter 1: Perfect Timing**

"V-Vice Commander!"

A stuttering man clad in blue clumsily held out a manila folder, his eyes darting to and fro. He uncomfortably bent his head down, petrified of the dauntless aqua eyes that locked him down. His eyes squeezed shut as his Vice Commander silently loomed over his shaking form. She raised one eyebrow, inspecting him.

"Are you new here?"

"Yes!" He nodded furiously in reply, fists clenched.

"I see. You may return to your division now," She grasped the folder and pulled it close to her chest.

He immediately snapped his arms to his sides, daring not to look up as he speedily backed out of the corridor. A sigh of relief escaped his lips; just being in the presence of Lieutenant Seri Awashima tired him out mentally and physically. He respected her, though her presence was overwhelming at times. Practical, callous, and dignified, she was indeed befitting of being the Blue King's second-in-command.

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Seri watched the new clansman rush out of the now-empty corridor. She pressed her lips into a thin line; was her behavior really that off-putting? She never understood why she invoked so much fear in her own subordinates. It wasn't like she purposefully wanted to have such a domineering image. She didn't lecture them that much either- okay, maybe she did have a tendency to point out wrongdoings- but still, all she did was simply acting and speaking with her own definition of "common sense". _It's not bad, I suppose_, she reasoned. _I can live with it._

Taking a few cautious steps back, Seri placed herself out of the sun's glare streaming in from the windows. She stationed herself right outside of the Blue King, Munakata Reisi's office. It was late noon, and he still hadn't returned from his meeting with the Prime Minister. She bet that at this moment, the Prime Minister was busy trying to butter up to the Blue King. Every time she visited the Prime Minister (a scrawny man who neither had the brawns nor brains), it was always a flurry of "Oh, you look even younger than before!" or "I'll do everything in my power to help you". It was utter hilarity seeing someone like the Prime Minister bowing low and licking his lips, always trying to please.

Prime Minister; the one with the "most power" in Japan. Seri would've let a small chuckle escape, if not for her mindfulness. The seven kings and their clans held all the power within Japan. Government officials like the Prime Minister had absolutely no say and acted as pawns for the Kings. But then again, she had no right to laugh at him.

Kings are kings and everyone else is a pawn.

Even her.

Dismissing her negative thoughts with a quick blink, Seri sifted through the numerous papers within a folder. It contained detailed reports of happenings within Shizume City, which she would discuss with the Blue King. She furrowed her eyebrows in a displeased manner, the crease growing bigger and more strained with each paper. The name "HOMRA" seemed to be stamped on every sheet she looked at, with a few exceptions of the occasional mafia incidents and street criminals. She couldn't remember the last time the daily reports _didn't_ consist of mostly HOMRA incidents- there were endless numbers of fights, wrecked buildings, and terrified citizens. They never failed to amaze her with their reckless and stupid actions. _Honestly, this group of delinquents_.

"Someone's quite irritated."

Seri immediately looked up to see the Blue King a few feet away. Adorned in his usual navy blue trench coat and uniform, he appeared as unperturbed as usual. She offered an unsure smile at his statement.

"Captain," She acknowledged, tipping her head forward formally. Munakata Reisi was one of the few people Seri surprisingly got along with. They had an odd sort of mutual understanding towards each other, despite knowing nearly nothing about the other. Given that Munakata was a rather "new" king in regards to the other king, she used to question his actions. It wasn't until a year later that Seri began to trust him.

"Awashima." The corner of his lips curled up in an uncharacteristic smile, before waving her over to his door.

"Come in," Munakata remarked calmly, walking into his office. She followed his steps, carefully closing the ornate cherry-oak door behind her. The room was clean and orderly as usual, with ornate vases placed here and there. Munakata seated himself comfortably, while Seri stood in front of his desk.

"Here are the reports," Seri pushed the folder across the polished wooden surface of his desk. He didn't spare more than a second on each paper and flipped through the packet at a fast pace. He didn't show any surprise, if he had any, at the numerous mentions of the Red Clan within the day's reports. Seri supposed even the Blue King had become accustomed to all the HOMRA happenings.

"HOMRA again," He said, clearly amused. "They seem to have recruited a few more clansmen. Seems that they also caused quite a few _incidents_ along the way."

Seri frowned at his display of amusement. "Destroying buildings, provoking yakuza groups, and injuring a quite a number of people… is not a 'few'."

"Harsh," Munakata commented, and Seri was sure she heard a tone of mirth in his usual relaxed voice.

"In fact, quite short of harsh," Seri stiffly replied. "So, what should we do?"

"Continue to keep an eye on their actions. And send Fushimi and a few others to resolve the results of HOMRA's actions."

Seri looked bewildered for a few seconds, before snapping back to her usual composure. This was unusual. Munakata had never asked her to keep watch of HOMRA. He knew that they would continue to cause trouble, so Seri didn't see the point of keeping track of HOMRA. However, she didn't voice her doubts.

"In short, to clean up the messes of their sloppy actions," Seri bluntly stated.

"Lacking tact, as usual," Munakata answered. "But with the Red King's Sword of Damocles in such a state, we cannot afford any hasty actions. His Weisman level is growing too rapidly as of late. As much as I would be pleased to end their brutish actions, it is too risky to push too far into their business."

So that was why. Seri didn't have to reaffirm his words; she had observed the Red King's Sword of Damocles in their last few encounters, and saw the cracks and chips evolve into large fractures and ruptures. Because she was used to seeing Munakata's pristine Sword of Damocles, the ruins of the Red King's Sword remained etched in her mind. If the Red King's sword fell, the whole city of Shizume would essentially be destroyed. She could see the logic in that, but... letting HOMRA run around like a wild pack of dogs was not quite a good idea. To be honest, she didn't have the patience to manage them either.

"While the HOMRA might burn everything down, they forget their ashes." His words were laced with mockery, but strict nonetheless. "Eventually, those ashes will spread with the wind. By then, it will be impossible to manage."

"Yes sir," Seri answered.

"In the meanwhile, I had Akiyama send over some interesting files, so you can check those out," said Munakata, and handed the folder back to Seri. She accepted it wearily. Because of HOMRA, her workload would never decrease. Never. It only grew bigger each day. How would they preserve peace in the city if her only tasks nowadays- most of her tasks, at least- was babysitting HOMRA?

Munakata shifted his attention from Seri another clansman who had just entered. Taking this as the sign to leave, Seri pressed the folder to her side, standing up from her seat. She gave a little bow and walked out of his room, waiting until she was out of earshot before heaving a sigh, one that came out like rocks tumbling down a cliff.

_Those HOMRA idiots_, she thought. How she would love to drill her own practicality into their heads. Trying to push away her annoyance at the troublesome HOMRA, she tiredly rubbed her eyelids. Just thinking about the extra work she would have to do because of those troublemakers gave her a headache.

She headed for the control room, located just a floor beneath Munakata Reisi's office. She supposed she could send Fushimi and Domyoji to "clean up" HOMRA's mess- they didn't have any specific assignments today, and Seri herself was in no mood to "clean up". She latched the door open, and quickly spotted her two targets huddled together at a table.

"Fushimi." Seri stopped in front of the two, who were absorbed with high-tech screens in front of them. What looked like a color-coded map of various regions of Shizume City were portrayed on the screens, dots popping up here and there to alert of any usual happenings.

"Lieutenant!" Domyoji snapped up and immediately greeted her enthusiastically. Fushimi continued monitoring the touch screens but didn't look her way, although she was quite sure he had heard her.

"Go check up on the areas that HOMRA has recently caused disorder on. Akiyama should have a complete map with the areas designated on them."

He gave no response, as expected. Domyoji frantically looked between the two, slightly nudging the impassive Fushimi beside him. Impervious to Domyoji's constant prodding, Fushimi resumed working away at the screens.

"Domyoji, accompany Fushimi." Seri addressed the enthusiastic man beside Fushimi.

"I get to go too?! Yes!" Domyoji pumped his fist and grinned widely, his orange hair bouncing up and down as he shook with excitement.

"Don't let your emotions get the better of you," Seri firmly said. Andy Domyoji often acted before he thought, and his _temper_ -Seri could see him fitting in with the Red Clan with that rashness of his.

"What?! I definitely won't!"

Seri strictly crossed her arms. "I should hope not."

"What's with the hesitation?! Fushimi can keep my temper in check," Domyoji confidently puffed his chest out and bounced off. Nope- even with that statement, she didn't trust him one bit. Seri sighed as she watched him walk away and then turned back to Fushimi.

Unlike the rest of Scepter4, Fushimi didn't show any sign of respect towards his lieutenant. He did his job well, so there was nothing Seri could logically argue about. She used to think it was just her imagination, but she grew to be certain that Fushimi hated her. Seri was a bit disgruntled at the fact that Fushimi didn't acknowledge her as a proper Vice Commander, but this was work, and she had no right to bring in personal feelings. He was simply hard to deal with.

"It's the king's orders, not mine, so no need to be uncooperative," She waited for him to respond. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Fushimi's expression grow into one of bitter distaste. He turned off his computer and the holographic screens vanished.

"Fushimi…" Seri paused. "Don't do anything unnecessary."

"When have I ever?" He replied tonelessly, and Seri could just feel the exasperation rolling off his tongue. He followed Domyoji out of the control room, never even sparing a glance at her direction.

Something vibrated in her pocket. She drew out her PDA to see a message and transfer of files from Akiyama, just as Munakata had mentioned earlier. Nothing less than what she expected of the flawless Akiyama.

She checked her watch. By now, Domyoji and Fushimi should have left the Scepter4 headquarters and were on the way to their destination. They would contact her if they found anything of use, so Seri supposed she had enough time to get started with the files Akiyama sent. She brushed aside her worries of Fushimi and Domyoji's (hopefully unproblematic) patrol.

Seri wound her way around the crowded control room to the clansman sitting at the front of a multiple holographic screens.

"Can you show me these files?" She handed him her PDA. As he transferred the data to the screens, she tucked back blonde wisps of hair that had fallen astray from a day of hard work.

"Got it." He handed her back her PDA and a selection of video clips began to play on the largest screen. Transfixed, Seri watched the clips. Fuzzy and lacking in audio quality, the clips provided shots of some recent incidents caused by HOMRA. Some showed one-on-one encounters, whereas some had much larger outbreaks. Clip after clip played, repetitive for the most part. HOMRA breaks in, chaos erupts, and a mess is created. Repeat.

"Could you pause at the scene a few seconds after the beginning? The one right after the boy with the skateboard grabs the lamppost?"

This one particular scene had a large number of HOMRA members, including some new faces she hadn't seen before. It was the most recent clip. Despite the number of HOMRA members, the Red King himself was not there. Seri noted that he rarely showed up in any of the HOMRA's outings. In fact, the only time she had seen him face to face was just after Munakata had been crowned as the new Blue King, and that was quite a while ago. From then on, she had only seen his face a few times on the recordings Scepter4 took.

Her PDA rang once again, the name "Domyoji" flashing on the screen. A picture of a building emerged on the screen, underneath the words "_Found another of HOMRA's recent adventures! Huhuhu!" _Seri pursed her lips.

"Keep the clip paused here. I'll be back shortly." She withdrew from the control room. Before heading down the numerous flights of stairs, she twisted her head around to check if she had her sabre tucked on her side.

"Sorry, Lieutenant…" Domyoji quietly whined. "If I had gotten the timing correctly, we wouldn't have ran into them…"

"I will have a talk with you when we get back, Domyoji. But for now…" Seri tensed at the situation before them. She should have known. _Damn you Domyoji_, she wanted to say. _This is why I don't trust you_. But he looked upset enough, his eyes drooping downward in silent apology, and Seri closed her eyes briefly to calm her anger.

Domyoji gulped at his lieutenant's unpleasant tone. He had placed the correct location, yes, but rushed into the room in a rush to show her his accomplishment. Unfortunately, he ran in just as the HOMRA were finishing their business. _Wonderful timing, _Seri sarcastically thought.

Usually Scepter4 and HOMRA weren't violent towards each other, but now that Seri thought about it, the two groups didn't have many chances to associate face-to-face. It was like a silent agreement – everything would remain peaceful if no group interfered with the other.

"Scepter4, huh? Come to poke your noses into our business again? I was under the impression that you blues were too busy playing your warped justice game," growled a boy, bouncing his bat up and down his shoulders as he walked out from the crowd of red clansmen.

"Oi, Yata, they're probably too straight-laced to even play games!" Someone in the crown shouted out, and hoots of laughter rang throughout the room.

There was a bitter silence. Domyoji opened his mouth to retaliate, only to choke as Seri jabbed him in the stomach as a warning. She didn't want to provoke them- even if she wanted badmouth the angry group in front of her, she had to remind herself of Scepter4's purpose - to maintain peace within Shizume City, which included the different clans. After a few more seconds of heated stares, Fushimi immediately reached for his rapier, fingers just lingering above the metal clasp keeping the weapon to his left side. He stepped forward with the intent to attack.

"Keep back." Seri stuck her hand out, stopping Fushimi in his tracks. "Do not give them any incentive to strike."

Fushimi irritably complied, the smirk on his face fading with a bitter scowl. Seri didn't care that he glared daggers into her back. It was her responsibility to keep the situation under control.

"Oh? Seems that the woman has some sense." Someone called out.

"More sense than you and your barbaric group," Seri defensively replied. She could hear Fushimi behind her muttering something about being a 'hypocrite', but ignored him and continued to raise her voice.

"What did you just call us?!"

"Nothing, just commenting on how savage your group is," Seri said, her eyes sweeping around the room. "Don't you have anything better to do than go around causing trouble like a group of fools?"

Ignoring the enraged roars from the HOMRA, Seri continued to search for any possible distractions. The two groups were growing tired of verbal insults, and if she didn't do something, an undesired all-out fight would occur, and she didn't want that to happen. Three against eight or nine. The odds were certainly not in her favor, being vastly outnumbered by the menacing group across the room. Her eyes landed on a large glass window at the very corner of the room, hidden by a marble pillar. If she could…

"I don't think we'll be able to peacefully leave this building without getting embroiled in a physical fight. Once HOMRA starts to move in, I want you two to move out the door behind us." Seri quietly said, her face impassive.

"But-" Domyoji started.

"Here's the key. I nabbed a copy earlier." Seri held out a metal plated key. A flabbergasted Domyoji stared blankly at her outstretched hand. Fushimi shot her a disapproving look.

"Now you're being arrogant, Lieutenant." Fushimi said with a curl of his lip, and grasped the key. Seri stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. She assumed he was still angry that she stopped him from attacking. When Fushimi offered no verbal explanation, she just brushed off his statement and stood in front of him and Domyoji.

"Hey, watcha talkin' bout?!" A boy suddenly swooped down from the air on a skateboard, a grin on his face.

Seri leapt out of the way and stepped forward a short distance, swiftly slipping out her rapier. HOMRA immediately targeted her, blazing red slashing across the air. She responded with a few defensive strikes of her own, constantly moving in erratic directions. Drawing in a deep breath, she quickly glanced back to see that Fushimi and Domyoji had successfully reached the door. _Good._

A few HOMRA noticed the escaping clansmen and immediately began to follow them, cries of "Cowards!" and "Get them!" growing fainter as they disappeared through the door. Five HOMRA members remained.

"Bitch!" A voice spat from behind Seri. She whipped around and narrowly avoided a direct hit from a HOMRA clansman.

"I don't appreciate foul language." Seri responded in a clear tone and dashed towards the window she spotted earlier, squeezing the rapier's handle. She raised her arm- if she could just prod the window with the tip of her rapier-

A swirl of fire blocked her way, throwing her off guard. Her heart sped up just a few beats as the clansmen surrounded her. _Think, Seri, think._

She blocked the incoming attacks with her rapier, circling the pillar as she watched the window out of the corner of her eye. All she needed was an opening. The skateboard kid swung out from around the corner, and her throat grew dry at the increasing temperature within the room. Seri continued to warily defend herself, not taking any forward actions. She quickly ducked to avoid a whip of fire hurtling at her.

Seri gritted her teeth. If she remained this passive, the heat would eventually send her into a faint state of mind. Seri needed to take action- as soon as possible. She dived onto the floor, surprising the clansmen. Before they could react, she scrambled off the floor and shoved her elbow out in front of her. Her eyes squeezed shut as she prepared herself for the impact.

Then she hurled herself out of the window.

For a split second, Seri thought she was safe, seeing no HOMRA members chasing her. But the wide-eyed looks from the HOMRA members at the broken window alerted her that something was off. That split second of relief was quickly washed away as her stomach plummeted.

_Shit. It was the fifteenth floor._

The entire city landscape spread out beneath her, rapidly growing bigger and bigger. She had been so absorbed in securing an exit that she forgot that the building wasn't single-leveled. Seri hardly made mistakes like this, and immediately berated herself.

_I am so stupid._

The wind whipped her face, stinging her cheeks. She was falling with her back to her ground, her face looking up towards the sky. Seri immediately attempted to curl herself into a fetal position to lessen any damage. Unfortunately, the wild wind whistling past her made it hard for her to move. She couldn't even force herself to think clearly- that one thought _falling out of a 15th floor window_ terrified her to no end.

_Remain calm,_ Seri repeated. _Calm._

Seri flexed her fingers and squeezed them tightly, her fingernails digging into the skin. Her heart tightened, and she couldn't breath. Struggling for a breath, she quickly opened and shut her eyes in time to see the foreboding ground just a mere meter beneath her. There was no more time.

Her mind was clogged with so many thoughts and fears-

It was the end, definitely-

Seri let out a squeak as she landed on something soft. The impact of her fall stung her back, but she was sure that whatever she fell on was not the cement floor. She turned her head to see an old-looking mattress underneath her. A _mattress_, of all things. Judging by the patches and accumulated dirt on its surface, Seri assumed it was probably thrown out by its owner. It was her lucky day.

"Thank god," She breathily said, her eyes wide open with shock. Ignoring the screaming pain of her bones and various burns, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Shards of glass were stuck in various areas, blood dripping from the most major injuries. Nothing too bad though, she summed up. It was unsightly, yes, but patchable. _It would have been different if there was no mattress_, she darkly thought. _I would've been badly injured- no, maybe even dead_. Loosening her fists, Seri lightly brushed her finger across her cheek, cringing at the stinging pain.

"Rapier…" Collecting herself, Seri slowly raised herself off the mattress in search of her missing sword. It stung- her legs, her arms, her head- everything ached like she was pierced by a thousand needles, especially the lower part of her right leg, from which emerged a dull pain that thudded through her nerves. _Twisted it, perhaps_. She slightly leaned to place her weight on her right ankle. Her left ankle must have taken too much of the impact when she propelled herself through the window.

She still needed to get out of here quickly- HOMRA was still lingering around the area, and she had no desire to face them in her current condition.

"Oh, come on…" Her rapier was nowhere to be found. She must have dropped it during the beginning of her fall from the window. At this point, all she could do was get a replacement. Regret gnawed at her chest- her current rapier had a close place in her heart. She really didn't want to leave without her rapier tucked safely beside her. Casting a final dubious look around her, Seri began to retreat from the mattress into a dark alleyway.

Head down, limping, and hair loosely falling from her shoulders, Seri dragged herself through the trashed street. Although she had no idea where she was heading, she figured it would be better to distance herself from the building first. It looked shady, but that was the least of her problems. A rat skittered by the edge of the shady alley, crawling by one of the many cracks of the base of a wall. She watched as its tail flicked back and forth, before disappearing into the small punctures. Seri couldn't help but distractedly finger the hook at her hip. Never had a small hole felt so big. Without the familiar handle of her rapier, the leather hook seemed so empty, hollow, and utterly lonely.

"Looking for this?"

A familiar silver blade was thrust out in front of her. Silver and aqua embellishments sparkled in the dull light. Lustrous spiral designs and brave flecks of iron dotted the handle. Little scratches and signs of weathering covered the blade; nevertheless, the silvery solid flickered as if dipped in oil.

Her blade.

Her rapier.

Seri's head shot up, opening her mouth to thank whoever it was. However, all that came out was a small strangled sound as alertness filled her eyes.

A shadowy figure of a man appeared before her, leaned against the alley wall, a leg leisurely propped up on a fallen over trashcan. Her loosely held her rapier in his right hand. He raised his free hand to tousle his blonde hair, bangs brushing past his black-rimmed sunglasses. Smoke rose up from the cigarette peeking out from his lips. He grinned- not light-heartedly, but in a way that Seri decided was utterly fake.

"You."

The Cheshire-like grin grew wider at her immediate glare. He raised his eyebrows, gracefully kicking aside the trashcan his leg was propping on.

"Hey there."

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**A/N:** Because of the lack of detailed information of Seri Awashima, I'm going to make some stuff up for her background and others. I'll try my best to stick what the anime/manga has set for them, though. This was originally intended to be Serizumo, but will have hints of Munaseri... because they're both sexyyy.

I kinda checked this chapter for errors... maybe? I'm pretty sure there's errors in there, actually. Maybe I'll get a beta so you guys won't have to suffer my terrible grammar and typos... and sentences that make no sense haha.

R & R?


	2. Complex

**A/N: **this fanfic starts before the anime. Might take quite a few more chapters until we get there.

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**Chapter 2: Complex**

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"_Hey there."_

Seri stiffened. Panic shot through her. She was in a mess, and was certain that she looked utterly pathetic at the moment. Her wounds hurt, her precious rapier was gone, and just emerged from a near death situation- but all of a sudden none of it mattered. Blood pounded through her ears as she drew herself up from a limp, holding her head high. Seri took a step back, keeping her eyes hardened; she would not show weakness. Not here, not now. Ignoring the tempting hilt of her rapier, she kept a defensive stance.

Seri stared at him flatly.

"Kusanagi Izumo."

The man took a long drag on his cigarette, seemingly as relaxed as could be. She hadn't closely looked at the profiles of HOMRA members, but estimated that he was in his early twenties, perhaps just a few years older than her. He possessed broad shoulders and a tall, slim frame. His profile was unclear- his darkly shaded glasses concealed his eyes- but the smile on his face was unsettling. Seri flinched ever so slightly as she caught a whiff of the scent of smoke. It smelled disgusting.

Izumo quirked his eyebrows and held her rapier close, observing the blade. He carefully held the handle with one hand, other hand on the edge of the blade, tilting it back and forth.

"It's been taken care of well, hm?"

_Of course._ She religiously sharpened, cleaned, and polished it every morning.

Izumo held the rapier out in front of him, slanting it so that Seri's figure was reflected off the gleaming blade. She glanced at her own appearance, reflected clearly in the silvery steel. Composed and calm; that was what immediately sprung to mind. _If only I felt the same inside_, Seri thought disparagingly. As she was absorbed in her thoughts, the man's lips curled even further up at her unreadable expression. It was now a full-blown cheerful smile- one that, by this point, was unmistakably artificial.

Deciding to keep her mouth shut, Seri remained silent, waiting for god-knows-what. She had no idea what to do. The HOMRA clansmen were probably out of the building now, searching the streets for her, looking into every nook and cranny for the person/people that had "poked their nose" into their business.

_And one is right in front of me_, she mentally added. _It's just my day._

"So, what should I do with this?" Izumo casually questioned, contently twirling the rapier in his hands.

"You can return it to the original owner, which would be recommended," Seri replied. She bit her tongue, trying to calm the burning desire to snatch her rapier out of his hands. _And this is another reason why I don't like HOMRA. _They were just… always at their own pace.

"Ah, but unfortunately, I don't know whose this is," Izumo appeared unruffled as he pleasantly smiled, his face the complete mask of a gentleman. He pulled out his lighter, toying with the metal cap.

Was he testing her patience? She was severely tempted to run up, grab her rapier, and wave him a goodbye- something she might have considered if she was uninjured and had a reckless personality. Seri didn't like the feeling of being played with. The insignia of Scepter 4 was clearly embedded at the top of the rapier handle. There was no way he didn't know the rapier was hers (unless he was by some chance incredibly stupid, but she doubted that). She watched him as he snapped the lighter cap open and closed. Anxiousness prickled up her spine, racing up to the hairs at the back of her neck. She could feel moisture clinging to her back.

He suddenly flicked his eyes towards the back of the dark alley. Seri could distinctly make out scuffling noises and a few loud voices. Her clansmen. Suddenly overwhelmed with a strange feeling of solace, she pulled her lips into a tight smile, drawing herself up to her fullest height. She stood with good posture, looking him straight in the eyes- or into the dark lenses of his sunglasses- and promptly walked up to him.

"In that case, throw it in the trash." Her voice cracked ever so slightly, but she retained her polite tone. With that, she promptly sidestepped Izumo. Seri felt a warm, gratifying sensation that swelled in her chest as soon as she took a step past him. She held her head higher, prouder, nearly passing by him until she heard the soft clink of his metal lighter.

Out of nowhere, a fireball came pelting from the sky.

Blinding streaks of crimson and tainted orange invaded her vision. Seri could feel the searing heat as it narrowly avoided her face. It burned into her skin, a white, searing pain from the splash of intensity. The fireball slammed into the wall next to her, sizzling as the flames slowly diminished. Little glowing embers that were chipped off of the fireball during its impact crackled and fell, hissing as they turned into charred pebbles of coal. Seri's eyes stung from the intense heat, watering even, yet she was unable to close them, her mind slowly processing what just happened. Seri was startled; her mouth formed a barely visible "o", which she closed as soon as it appeared.

Seri glanced at the gaping hole next to her. What had once been a wall was reduced to crumbling blocks of cement, edges tinged with an ashy black. The immense cavity reeked of hot tar and molten fire. A rat- maybe the one she saw before- poked its head out of the pile of decimated stone and scurried off, its tail sticking straight up from fright. Had she taken one more step, the fireball would have rendered some serious burns. Shaken, she refused to turn around, willing herself to stay still.

"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Izumo straightened up from his lax position. He tugged his cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers before letting his hand drop to his side. "I think I'll keep it, Awashima Seri."

Adjusting the sabre so that the blade rested on his shoulder, he began to walk away.

Still stunned, Seri barely heard his leathery footsteps walking away. When she awakened from her stupor, she whipped around ready to fire back a retort. However, all that greeted her was the dark alleyway. She narrowed her eyes, staring at the trashcan that Izumo had used to prop his leg on.

_Absolute trash, he was_.

"Lieutenant! Are you okay?"

The sound of feet hitting pavement grew louder as Seri was approached by a group of her clansmen, which she assumed Domyoji and Fushimi had called for. Worry was etched on their faces. She slumped back against the wall, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Two clansmen supported her, making sure she wouldn't fall. Seri waved them away, steadily trying to walk on her own.

"I'm fine. I can walk on my own," She flatly stated, adjusting herself to look more presentable. The clansmen grew quiet upon Seri's hardened face, and led her to the Scepter4 van parked right outside the alley.

The ride to the Scepter4 headquarters was a quiet one, with Seri's severe face stifling the atmosphere. Her injuries didn't hurt, but her pride was hurt. Munakata had personally handed her the rapier, and it held so much significance- much more than one could think. Somehow, she felt like she had failed Munakata, although she knew it wasn't true. Once they arrived, Seri immediately left the van began to walk at a fast pace towards the entrance. Ignoring the requests to tend her wounds, she began heading up to Munakata Reisi's office. Before stepping in, she took a deep breath and prepared herself.

"Excuse me."

Munakata Reisi was standing by one of the windows behind his desk. He had his back turned to her, his face slightly tilted as he gazed out the window. He held an earthen cup in one hand (Seri assumed it was tea), while the other hand was grasping the edge of the blue curtain, lifting it up ever so slightly. The sun was just beginning to set, tinting the sky with the faintest trace of orange, giving the office a comfortable orange glow. Unsure of what to do, Seri lingered by the door for a few seconds.

"Awashima. Seems like you got into a predicament today."

Seri swallowed. "My deepest ap-"

"Awashima." Munakata interrupted. He calmly took a sip of tea and let go of the curtain, shielding some light from the room.

Seri fell silent. Was he angry at her? Upset? Disappointed? Her eyebrows creased, keeping her eyes on Munakata.

She made her way to the Blue King's desk, standing a few feet behind him. Seri squinted, the sunlight glaring into her eyes. The two remained quiet, looking out of the window.

"You need a new sabre, I presume?"

Munakata's smooth voice broke the silence. Guilt washed over Seri, a lump growing in her throat. About to ask how he knew, Seri opened and closed her mouth. It sounded like a foolish question to ask.

"Yes, sir."

"It's missing from your side. You carry it everywhere," Munakata briefly stated, answering her silent question.

"Yes," Seri responded, keeping her eyes trained on his back. She knew it wasn't intended to be hurtful in any way, but to her it was like a stab in the side.

"There is nothing to apologize for." Munakata turned to face Seri. She gauged his expression; solemn, yet with no anger or disappointment.

"The report." Munakata returned to his desk, folding his hands in front of him. Seri felt slightly reassured that he had dropped the topic, yet was unnerved by his lack of anger. She didn't do anything wrong worth punishment, but she expected maybe a statement of 'Be more careful next time' or 'Don't be so hasty'. She continued to stand by his desk, but took a few steps back so that she could face him.

"I have confirmed that there are new HOMRA members. While we are still trying to find out what HOMRA's intentions for grouping up in the building were, we can assume that the room they were in is the lair of a lesser-known mafia group. I have more specific data I will present tomorrow."

"I see. Anything else?"

"I met the right-hand man of the Red King." Seri frowned in distaste before she could stop herself.

"Oh?" Munakata noticed her expression, somewhat amused. "What was your first impression?"

Seri paused, trying to put her thoughts into the simplest form possible. She recalled the way he acted; the jesting tone of voice, the way he had dared to fool around with her rapier. There were so many words she could use- annoying, troublesome, impish- but she settled with a more simple statement.

"Hard to deal with."

"You're hard to deal with yourself, Awashima," The Blue King noted.

Seri held back the impulse to retort with a witty comeback. Remembering what Fushimi had said to her earlier, she shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to ask, yet her guilt from the earlier incident tied her tongue in knots. She felt dispirited, almost- as much as she hated to admit it. Munakata turned around to face the window again.

"Get those wounds treated, Awashima. They look nasty."

"Thank you, sir."

She could almost sense a faint smile from him.

* * *

"I bet a hundred dollars he's off talking to a girl." Shohei declared, slamming his hand down on the bar counter.

"I could bet my life savings on that," Chitose sniggered. "That skirt-chaser."

"Like you're the one to say, Chitose," Bando snorted. "Didn't you just go through three girls this week?"

Chitose proceeded to glare at Bando, who immediately "hmphed" and turn around in his seat. They engaged in a small brawl, which ended up with several scratches on each other's faces. Shohei had to pull them apart, and the two fighting teenagers sulkily sat back down.

"Don't go spreading rumors about people behind their backs," A voice called out from the back entrance of the room.

"Izumo! Where'd you go?" Yata called from the corner of the room, where he lazily lounged by the wall, skateboard propped up next to him. "We couldn't find the Scepter4 woman so we came back. Where the hell did you go for so long? There's no way you taken that long to pick up some things from your apartment."

"What's that you got there, Izumo?" Rikio curiously called out. He bumbled over in his jogging outfit, peering at the sabre. Izumo twirled the sabre around in his hand before placing it on a wooden shelf in front of a plethora of whiskey bottles.

"Just a piece of trash."

"Hah? Why are you keeping pieces of shit?" Yata bluntly questioned, a look of distaste evident on his face. "Did Tatara's hobbies rub off on you?"

"Hey now, it's not a bad thing if he learns a thing from me," Tatara chuckled from one of the many sofas. "Although, I don't fence."

"Misaki-chan is just too immature to understand these kind of things," Izumo replied thoughtfully, hooking his coat onto a wooden coat hanger. He made his way to behind the bar counter, leaning over to check the supplies in the bar drawer.

"What did you say?!" Yata furiously demanded. He pushed himself off the floor and angrily stalked towards the bartender. "And don't fucking call me that!"

"_It's okay,_ _Misaki-chan_…" A different voice piped up from behind.

"SHUT UP, ERIC! DON'T THINK I DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND ENGLISH!"

"No wonder girls don't like you," Izumo feigned disappointment and shook his head side to side. "No decency."

"Don't need girls!" Yata crabbily replied. He took a large swig of water, choking in broken gasps after accidentally swallowing an ice cube.

"Not like you can get one," Izumo grinned and shrugged his shoulders. He picked up a glass cup and a wadded up rag, wiping it clean.

"You bas- Mikoto!" Yata jumped off his seat excitedly.

The Red King appeared from the doorway, holding Anna's hand. Mikoto reached up and scratched the back of his head, slowly making his way towards the wooden bar. Anna plodded across the room, placing her crimson outerwear on a lower hook on the coat hanger. She then joined Tatara at the sofa.

As the HOMRA members bickered among themselves, the Red King seated himself at the very edge of the bar. Izumo placed a glass of iced liquor in front of him. Mikoto accepted it, taking slow drams of the brandy.

"They're getting along well," Izumo looked up to see the Red King staring contentedly at his clansmen. "You've built up a nice family."

"Family, eh," Mikoto murmured. He took one last gulp of his brandy, and handed the empty glass back to Izumo. He gruffly smiled as he watched Anna and Tatara amuse themselves with an old-fashioned video camera.

"Guess I did."

* * *

Next day, Seri woke up groggy and sore. Luckily, her wounds didn't hurt as much due to Scepter4's good medicinal treatment. She was sent into a state of panic when her rapier was absent from its usual place by her bed. After remembering that it was stolen by an annoying man, she nearly broke her toothbrush with rage. Clansmen made sure to avoid her at the Scepter4 headquarters that day. In the end, she claimed she "lost" her rapier during her fall from the window. It wasn't completely false, nor completely true. Her uniform was ruined as well, but she was handed a new one, along with new rapier. Although the new equipment didn't feel the same as her old one, she accepted it graciously.

Seri had given Domyoji an earful, and he had scampered off like a terrified rabbit. She contemplated lecturing Fushimi as well, but her heart wasn't in it. The memory of him calling her "arrogant" made her even more reluctant to talk to him. _He probably wouldn't listen either_, Seri reasoned. She stopped by his desk table and just gave a few berating words. He didn't seem affected, so Seri gave up and returned to the control room.

"Skip ahead a few seconds."

The clansman complied, and Seri signaled for him to pause the clip. She leaned in closer to the screen. Although hidden evasively from the camera, it was most definitely _him_. The lighter, shades, and relaxed posture that she knew all too well about- the Red King's right hand man.

_Kusanagi Izumo_. He definitely appeared more than the Red King, but his presence was still quite rare. Sharing the same positions of being the "second-in-command" to the King was probably the only similarity Seri could think of. She felt a bit miffed, seeing his grinning face. It was the only expression she ever saw him with. Seri inwardly grimaced. She took her job as the King's right-hand woman seriously, and seeing him so easy-going just mocked her indirectly. Why would the Red King choose someone like him as his right-hand man?

Weeks went by, the incident with Kusanagi Izumo now just a glimmer of the past. The missing rapier still gnawed at her heart, but she tried to put it behind took quite a while before she finally shrugged the incident off, deciding that there was no point in caring about it anymore.

The weather grew colder as well, the frigid air biting at their noses and skins, luckily remedied by the advanced heaters of the Scepter4. Seri predicted that snow could appear anytime now, and she certainly did not look forward to that. She continued to work hard as lieutenant, albeit sometimes being too harsh with her subordinates. The cold air would sometimes make her become ten times snappier, something she was unaware of until Fushimi brazenly told her, to which Seri proceeded to ignore (as usual) and act all the same.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" Benzai questioned, worried he did something wrong. Seri and a few other Scepter4 members were sitting at in a large conference room, discussing a recent chain of burglaries.

"Sorry, I just fell off track," She pinched her leg under the table, hoping the pain would fill her with alertness; she had spaced out in the middle of their meeting. Heaving a sigh, Seri stood up from her seat, knees wobbling slightly from sitting in a rigid position for too long. "Akiyama and Benzai, scout for more information. Deliver me your report tomorrow. We're done here."

"Oh, that's right. It's the King's birthday next week!" Domyoji commented. "Dunno how old he is though…"

"His age shouldn't be a concern," Akiyama replied. "Just don't give him anything stupid like last year. What was it again? A facial massager?"

"I thought it would help him keep his face looking young," Domyoji angrily retorted. "Besides, he said he liked it!"

"He was being polite," Akiyama tapped him on the head with a stack of papers. They shuffled out of the room, leaving Seri standing by herself.

Seri's ears perked up; she was so immersed in her work recently that she had forgotten that the Blue King's birthday was approaching. Last year, Seri gifted him a fancy ink pen. It now sat in the Blue King's drawer, sometimes used to sign documents. She was pleased to know that he used her present. This year, however, she felt stumped. Seri knew he would accept any present he received for the sake of being courteous, but she wanted to pay her gratitude towards him. He had saved her. Scepter 4 was the only place Seri could imagine herself belonging to. Munakata gave her that opportunity, and she resolved to herself that she would do her best to repay him. But she didn't even know what the Blue King liked or hated. Not one thing. She had never asked, and he didn't offer any information either.

After a hard day's of work, Seri walked around the Scepter4 building for one last check. She was one of the last people in the building. Getting ready to head home, she changed out of her uniform and into more casual clothing. She carefully placed her white hairpin into her bag, letting her hair fall freely to just below her shoulders.

Seri took a detour on the way home, walking down a street full of flashy signs loud voices of "Come here for fantastic deals!". Flickering neon lights illuminated the dark, glimmering on and off like a mirage of some sort. She drifted around the street, occasionally taking peeks inside the showy boutiques. Because of the approaching Christmas and New Years' the streets were packed with throngs of holiday shoppers- namely couples that boldly flirted at every corner. _Shameless._ Big crowds were not her forte; she disliked having to force her way through what seemed like endless hands and impolite pushing- "Hey, I was there first!", "No cutting", "'Scuse me..."- and to top it off, her ears rang from garbled voices around her.

Just as she was about to give up, a small, inconspicuous shop at the end of the street caught her eye. It was an antique shop, dusty and falling apart.

Compared to the other crowded shops, the antique shop was close to empty-_ Thank god for that_. It was also extremely quiet, with an occasional tinkling sound coming from a bell hanging on the door. Shabby as it may seem, the peeling wallpaper and rickety wood floors of the shop gave it some charm. Taking her time to meander restlessly around statues and ancient trinkets, she tried to pick out a suitable present.

Unfortunately, nothing was suitable, or even close to her expectations. What would a King be satisfied with? _Certainly not this,_ Seri snorted as she held up a cracked plate. He probably had everything he wanted. Not surprising, coming from a man who could be considered a monarch in the modern world. Seri recalled seeing expensive vases and imported furniture in his office, even packets of gourmet tea flavored with rare Indian spices. That thought depressed her even more. She spotted an outdated jukebox sitting by itself in the far corner of the shop. She slowly rubbed off a layer of dust to see that the song names had faded from age.

"Captivating, isn't it?"

A young man next to her bent over to observe the jukebox. Seri looked at him with suspicion evident in her eyes. He offered her a soft smile. She watched him as he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a nickel. After popping it into the coin slot, he closed his eyes, listening to the familiar music that flowed out.

"Ah, this song. Brings back memories."

The melody was haunting and beautiful. She was briefly mesmerized, but harshly reminded herself of her original purpose. Enjoying music can wait- her priority was to find a gift. Seri pulled her eyes away from the strange man, just about to walk away.

"Hey, don't play with it if you're not going to buy it!" The shopkeeper yelled from the front of the shop. Seri froze mid-step, realizing that the red-faced shopkeeper was addressing her as well. Sourly, she turned around and dragged herself to say sorry- manners were manners, even if she hadn't done anything.

"Oops, we got caught," The man cheerfully said. She apologized along with the stranger next to her, rather displeased she had gotten in trouble for something she was pulled into. It showed on her face, or at least she thought it did, for the shopkeeper looked offended by her strained smile. Exasperated, Seri turned around to leave. She had just reached the door when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"You look quite troubled," The man caught up to her. "Sorry about getting you in trouble. I thought, you know, music eases the soul?"

Seri didn't know quite what to say in return. She was torn between replying that music _did not _soothe the soul_,_ or that it was okay and he didn't have to apologize. She almost wanted to reprimand him, but it wasn't her place to do so.

"So, what's wrong?"

"Huh?" Seri stared at him oddly. It wasn't often that a random stranger would strike up a conversation with her.

"Letting it out would make you feel better," The man continued to babble. "I'm all ears!"

"A present…" Taken aback, the words unconsciously tumbled out of her mouth.

"You're having trouble picking out a present?"

Right on the mark. For a second, Seri considered telling the man that he was wrong and no, she was not having any problems picking out a present, she simply didn't know what she was talking about. _Foolish_, Seri reasoned. _Might as well just admit it. Who knows, maybe he'll have good advice_. Just a tad embarrassed, Seri made an uncomfortable expression and raised her chin a bit higher. It took much effort to push the next words out of her clenched teeth. "I suppose."

"All you have to do is pick what you feel is right," The man understandingly replied. "Don't think about how much the sender will like it. That only makes things more complicated, you know?"

She couldn't disagree more. It sounded incredibly wishy-washy- and too easy. For gods sakes- she was not an idiot. Seri held her tongue, and beamed at him. "Thank you for your advice."

Fed up after hours of searching, Seri ended up following his advice, much to her disgruntlement. Perhaps she really was an idiot. There were a few mad moments when she thought "_Forget it, my presents to the King won't matter anyways. I can skip getting one this year_", and when she finally reached her wit's end, she reached out and grabbed the first item that caught her eye. She criticized herself for listening to a man who may have been crazy. What if he had no idea what he was talking about? _He probably didn't_, Seri reasoned. What was she doing? It wasn't like her to listen to untrustworthy people. She left the shop, gift stowed away in her bag. All Seri could do now was hope for the best- that Munakata wouldn't hate it.

She paid for the gift, disregarding the nasty looks the shopkeeper sent her way, and walked out with a frustrated yet oddly satisfied mindset. Her stomach growled; she hadn't had any dinner to eat. Oh well. She supposed she still had instant noodles at home. Prepackaged food made up most of her diet. It was unhealthy, but cheap and easy. It saved her time from any strenuous tasks of cooking.

The sky was dark, and the street was noticeably less crowded than before. Chilled by the night wind, Seri tugged the collar of her uniform up so that it protectively covered her neck, bathing it in warmth. She lived in a quiet district a forty-minute walk away from the Scepter 4 building. She could call for a taxi for transport, but Seri rejected that idea at once. Walks to and from the Scepter 4 building served as her contemplating time. She didn't find the walk tiring, either- hell, she probably walked more at Scepter4 headquarters delivering reports, checking data, and checking up on clansmen that would repeatedly make mistakes.

Things were just too complex. Work, life, her own mentality. Sure, every day was the same process, a robotic, never-ending cycle; yet, there was that growing doubt int he back of her mind that things were more complicated than she perceived them to bee. Her position as lieutenant was considered to be the closest to the King, yet she didn't even know one thing he liked or disliked. Not one thing.

_I even have trouble picking out a birthday present_, Seri bitterly thought. _How pathetic._

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for all the feedback, favorites, and follows! You guys just made my day and motivated me to write another chapter. There's not much Serizumo atm, but there'll be a big chunk in a bit.

_sparkling apples:_ Yes more Seri love! Thanks for reviewing! Wonderful name. Apppples.

_Luaneei:_ I guess it was a bit cliché, huh. I might go back and fix the scene. Thanks for reviewing!

**R&R?**


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